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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24531997">Of bad Goodbyes and Other Such Tragedies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johngoode/pseuds/Johngoode'>Johngoode</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Goodbyes [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:55:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24531997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johngoode/pseuds/Johngoode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of fics that showcase the bad goodbyes over the stretch of the show.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Goodbyes [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>And it must have been an hour that I clutched you in my arms<br/>
And I must have said the right things because you instantly felt warm<br/>
And you heard my heart stop beating and you wanted not to cry<br/>
As your sympathetic whispers, they told a tale of bad goodbyes</em>
</p><p>
  <b>                                                                                 Mayday Parade</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>September 30, 2006</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The night air was cold and bitter as they pulled up onto the plot of land. It was barren and out of the way, just like Bobby described it. It was far enough off the road that no one would see them. They would be alone up here, the three of them, Dean, Sam and John. The three of them one last time.</p><p> </p><p>Dean slammed the car into park and sat behind the wheel for a moment. His mind was reeling, he wanted to hit something, he wanted to cry, he wanted to open the trunk and shake the corpse until it answered him. He wanted to drink until he couldn't see straight, he wanted to scream out for absolution from a god he didn't believe in. He wanted to do all this and more. Yet he sat there.</p><p> </p><p>Silent.</p><p> </p><p>Waiting.</p><p> </p><p>“Dean?” Sam asked after a good five minutes. His voice was ragged, choked with tears. Where Dean had been the very picture of clam and collection, Sam had been bawling like a six year old who dropped his cotton candy on the boardwalk. Bobby had offered to come but Dean had waved him off. Though Bobby Singer was like family, this was something else. This was something they needed to do alone.</p><p> </p><p>The three of them.</p><p> </p><p>One last time.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah” Dean said turning off the car and getting out. The cool South Dakota wind cut into him as if he was bare chested. He felt his entire body begin to shake for a moment before he realized it had nothing to do with the cold. Slamming the door he walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He stood there staring.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I remember the day we buried your mother.” his father once said out of the blue. They were in some god forsaken motel room watching some chick flick movie where Julia Roberts dies at the end. Dean had been watching the movie off and on as he had taken apart and assembled the 9mm in his lap several dozen times. If he was paying attention to the movie he wasn't aware of it. But at his dad's words he looked up in confusion.</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>It was some little grave in the middle of nowhere, her brother bought it for her. There were a couple of people there...and they were all crying. And I was so mad.” the older man said looking off into the distance “So mad because they didn't know Mary, didn't care about her. Hell half of them hadn't even talked to her since we got married. But there they were, crying like they had lost their best friend. And I was so lost...” again he looked off as if peering through the window “And I looked over to you. You were holding Sam, who somehow knew something was off because he was crying his head off. And there you were.” and his dad's eyes focused on him “You were holding him, rocking him telling him it was going to be alright. That mom was in heaven, and that was ok because we would all be together someday.” John's voice drifted off “And it was alright after that.” his voice was thick as he looked over to his oldest son “It was alright because you were right, someday we would all be together...until then all we could do was wait.” He jammed his finger down on the remote, turning the movie off “And since then I never once cared about dying or being killed.” he got up and placed a giant hand on Dean's small shoulder “And you shouldn't either kiddo. Because in the end, we'll be together, all of us.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“Dean you ok?” Sam asked breaking Dean's memory. There was a wetness to his eyes that made the covered corpse blur to him. Pulling his arm away from Sam's he gave some gruff answer off as he leaned in to grab the body.</p><p> </p><p>“Get some wood.” Dean said lifting his father out of the trunk “We're gonna need a lot of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dean why are...” Sam asked for the hundredth time since John had ceased to draw breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Because I said so Sammy.” Dean barked out “Because he told me this was what he wanted done and damned if we won't do ONE thing for the man he asked for.” The bitterness in his voice cut Sam to the quick as he froze in place for a moment. Dean lifted the body out with such tenderness you would swear their father wasn't dead, merely napping. In a voice much softer and devoid of any anger Dean said “Please Sammy, this is hard enough already. Can we do it and not fight?”</p><p><br/>
Sam nodded in silence as he slammed the trunk closed. With his hands in his jacket he scoured the hillside looking for any dry wood lying around so that they could build a pyre and burn their father's body in the middle of it. Sam didn't understand why John had wanted this, but Dean had been insistent.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Burn me.” John said between bites.</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>What?” Dean asked, coughing up his mouthful of pasta.</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Burn me.” John repeated as he took a swig of beer “If I ever die make sure to burn me.”</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>They had been discussing ways of dying and which would be the worst. John felt drowning was a particularly safe way to go. But Dean had seen Jaws too many times to go down that road. Dean had suggested falling from a great height until John had reminded him that there was no guarantee you lost consciousness on the way down. They had both grudgingly agreed on gunshot to the head was ok, clean, fast, painless as far as they knew, when John had declared he was to be burned.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Why?” Dean asked, now pale and not the least bit hungry.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>John put his beer down and looked across the table to Dean “Because I have sent more people to hell than the entire city of Las Vegas. And if any of them had their chance, they would use my body to wreck unholy hell on the world. A hunter like me, with the friends I have...”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You have friends?” Dean asked in half mocking.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>John gave him a look and continued “...a hunter like me possessed by one of them. I couldn't think of a worst fate.” He took another drink “Sides, it's not like I want to come back anyways.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dean sat there for a few moments in thought and then looked up at his dad “Can you?” he asked “Can you come back?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>John gave him a haunted look, a look that made young Mr. Winchester shiver in his seat as his father said “Trust me when I say Dean, dead things should stay dead. And no one who would offer to bring the dead back, ever had any good in them at all.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dean nodded as he took another bite “But there are ways.” he asked again.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>John sighed “Yeah there are ways Dean. Trust me, I have tried every single one. And none of them are worth it.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dean almost asked what he had tried, and if he had ever gotten to talk to mom again. But the look on his dad's face told him it was a story he didn't want to hear. Instead they finished their meal in silence as John repeated “So burn me. If I die...make sure I am not coming back.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“This enough?” Sam asked, making Dean jump slightly. Sam noticed and winced “Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damnit Sammy” Dean snarled as he stood up “Wear a fricking bell or something.” he looked at the armful of wood “It's a start. Go get some more and I will start setting it up.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam stood there for a moment “Dean...I know you're upset...”</p><p> </p><p>“Sam” Dean said clenching his teeth “I swear to god I have nothing left. Nothing. No Oprah moments, no Dr. Phil revelations to learn. Nothing. I want to make this fire, burn the body and drink one last beer with my dad. That's all. Can we do that without you trying to probe me with your introduction to physiology crap?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam clenched his own jaw in frustration but held his tongue. He stomped off in search of more wood, leaving Dean and his father alone again. When he was sure Sam was out of earshot he said quietly “You're a sonofabitch you know that?” his voice was low and filled with anger, so much anger Dean didn't know what to do with it. “You go and tell me that crap about Sam and then die? Is that ok to you?”</p><p> </p><p>The body said nothing, but he could just hear the disapproving tone in his father's voice as he berated Dean for losing it.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck you dad.” Dean answered “Fuck you and all your good solider crap. I can't do this!” he said, his voice rising slightly “I can't go on and pretend to watch my brother because I might have to kill him.”He stood up and hovered over the body “Well fuck you dad, fuck you and your crusade.” Dean felt the entire few days welling up in him and exploding. With all the strength he could muster he hauled off and kicked the body as hard as he could. The corpse teetered slightly and rolled back to its position “Fuck you and your whole life of lies.” kick “And secrets!” kick “And keeping us at arm's length.” kick “Fuck you and everything to do with mom and that demon and everything!” kick “Just” kick “Fucking” kick “DIE!” kick. And the body began to roll.</p><p> </p><p>Dean watched in horror as the body completed a full revolution and began to slowly gain speed as it rolled down the slight hill.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit!” Dean muttered as he chased his father's corpse down the hill. It picked up some momentum as he chased after it as fast as he could. He struggled to keep his footing as the hill became steeper and the body began to bounce and jump down the hill. Dean made a half leap to grab it and felt the edge of the sheet touch his fingers. With all his might he pulled the sheet back, and saw it roll in place, launching his father out of its embrace and down the hill. Dean felt the bloody sheet slap him in the face as he tumbled down the hill, his body slamming into the rough, rocky incline with more force than he liked. Each impact shoved his face into the sheet even harder as he smelt his father all over him. As he tumbled off the side of the hill he felt himself free falling for a moment, and in that moment of gravity, he closed his eyes and held out his arms as the ground came hurtling up at him. He opened his eyes and saw his father's corpse laying at the foot of the mountain as he came hurtling down on top of it. As he felt himself about to impact with it his father's eyes opened and looked at him with a dead stare and said “Coward!”</p><p> </p><p>Dean jerked awake at once.</p><p> </p><p>He scrambled away from the body as he tried to stop himself from falling. He lied there for several seconds as his mind tried to wrap itself around the fact, he wasn't falling, and he wasn't dead. There was a wave of relief, but more than a hint of despair with a feeling he had failed somehow. Shaking his head he composed himself as Sam came back with another handful of wood. Seeing his brother's distress he asked “You ok?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean looked up at him and growled “Dad's dead, how ok you think I am gonna get?” Standing he grabbed the wood from Sam and began laying it out into a funeral pyre. Sam sat there, trying not to stare at the corpse, wrapped in white. It took more than an hour to set it up properly before Dean would allow Sam to help him lower John's corpse onto the wood.</p><p> </p><p>Finally they stood there, two sons waiting to burn their father. Both surrounded by grief, not daring to speak out loud. Finally Dean cleared his throat and asked “You got something to say?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam looked at the white mound for a long time before acknowledging Dean's words. In a small voice he said more to himself “It's so small, it should be bigger.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sam?” Dean barked, getting his younger brother's attention instantly “You got something you want to say?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded and pulled out a piece of paper and read off it.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>A brief candle; both ends burning“<br/>
“An endless mile; a bus wheel turning”<br/>
“A friend to share the lonesome times”<br/>
“A handshake and a sip of wine”<br/>
“So say it loud and let it ring”<br/>
“We are all a part of everything”<br/>
“The future, present and the past”<br/>
“Fly on proud bird”<br/>
“You're free at last.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Sam's voice had a timbre to it, a solemness that made the entire scene more real somehow. Dean looked over to him and asked “What is that?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam held up the piece of paper “Charlie Daniels wrote it when Ronnie Van Zant died. Somehow it seemed...”</p><p> </p><p>“Fitting” Dean finished for him and Sam nodded as he tried not to cry.</p><p> </p><p>“You have anything to say?” Sam asked.</p><p> </p><p>Dean looked at the body and hardened his face “I've said enough.” and with that he tossed the torch onto the body. And the two brothers watched the flames in silence. One mourning the loss of their father, the other, mourning the loss of his innocence.</p><p> </p><p>It was a bad goodbye.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam died. It was a bad goodbye.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>And it must have been an hour that I clutched you in my arms<br/>And I must have said the right things because you instantly felt warm<br/>And you heard my heart stop beating and you wanted not to cry<br/>As your sympathetic whispers, they told a tale of bad goodbyes</em>
</p><p>
  <b>                                                                        Mayday Parade</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>May 2, 2007</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Dean sat stunned.</p><p> </p><p>He heard Bobby run off after the guy, but Dean wasn't paying attention. He was too busy feeling his brother die. People don't die like they do in the movies, they don't get hit and then fall down and never move again. The human body is made to survive, and even when it has no chance at all of continuing, it will fight with all it's power to get one more second. It will shut down internal organs, halt blood flow, it will even throw off parts of itself that are no longer capable of survival to squeeze out one more second, one more breath, one last word. It's scary to watch someone die, because you are torn. On one hand you want them to stay and linger as long as they can. As Sam looks up at Dean, his eyes already glassing over, Dean would give anything to keep his brother here forever. To just stop time, spend that last second forever and let the world be damned.</p><p> </p><p>On the other hand, a slow death is a painful one, and sometimes you just want the poor son of a bitch to die. Sam was in pain, the numbness of shock was wearing off, just in time for him to feel the hole in his body start to throb. Dean had seen a lot of death in his time, and his brother's last moments were going to be in agony. Without a thought he pulled him close and embraced him.</p><p> </p><p>Dean held Sam as tight as he could, clutched there in the mud, feeling his brother breathe his last breath Dean felt his world drop out from underneath him. Sam choked one last whisper and then his head fell onto Dean's shoulder. Dean sat there stunned, the only sound was his own ragged breathing in the middle of the night.</p><p> </p><p>He was alone, Dean Winchester was alone...again.</p><p> </p><p>By the time Bobby had come back Sam was lying on the ground, his hands on his chest. Dean was standing a bit away leaning against the wooden fence, his hand gripped around a cigarette. Bobby knew that Dean was a nervous smoker, rarely touching the stuff except in times of stress or completely wasted. He had pretty much given the habit up when Sam came back into his life, the younger Winchester pretty adamant about not wanting to smell like smoke for the rest of his life. And just like that Dean had given it up. Bobby had never seen anyone give up smoking so easily before, but Dean would had done anything for Sam.</p><p> </p><p>Bobby slowed and looked down at Sam...Sam's body as Dean exhaled slowly. “He gone?” Dean asked in a tone of voice that was far more casual than Bobby was expecting. Looking up in confusion Dean clarified “The black guy in cammies...he gone?”</p><p> </p><p>Bobby nodded in shock as he took his hat off, his own eyes began to swell with tears “Dean...I am...”</p><p> </p><p>Dean threw the butt away as he walked over cutting Bobby off “We need to get him out of here, you have a safe house nearby?”</p><p> </p><p>Bobby nodded quickly “Yeah, but shouldn't we...”</p><p> </p><p>“Do what Bobby?” Dean said looking up “Call the cops? Tell him my brother was kidnapped by a yellow eyed demon and was killed by some black guy with a knife.” Dean's hands were clenched into fists “What should I tell them Bobby? That I stood there and watched him get stuck like a damn pig?” Dean's anger was there on the fringe of his words, but just as slowly they were gone.</p><p> </p><p>Bobby chose his words carefully “Dean, there was nothing you could...”</p><p> </p><p>“Save it” Dean said cutting him off with a gesture “Can you take his legs, we need to get him out of here.”</p><p> </p><p>Bobby put his hat back on and walked over to Sam's legs “Where we putting him?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean gestured back to where the Impala was parked “In the trunk.” he said then grumbled to himself “If it could fit dad it could fit him.”</p><p> </p><p>They lifted him silently, Dean marveled how something so large could weigh so little. It was as if everything that had made Sam Sam was gone, and all that was left was a shell. A dead, empty shell.</p><p> </p><p>Kind of like Dean's life.</p><p> </p><p>About an hour later they made it to the small shack in the middle of nowhere. Bobby and Dean got Sam out of the trunk and laid him on the small threadbare mattress. Dean stood there watching the body for a few minutes, his mind was completely blank. “You hungry?” Bobby asked, but Dean didn't look back. He was looking at Sam.</p><p> </p><p>“Dean?” Bobby tried again, but Dean was beyond hearing. Bobby grabbed the keys and took off, leaving Dean alone with his brother.</p><p> </p><p>He stood there for a long time, his thoughts kept tumbling back to his father and the robot like way they had burned his body a year ago. Was it a year? Seemed longer for some reason. His mind kept going back to what his dad had said all those years ago, that someday they would all be together, his whole family together. They would have to be dead, but at least together. Dean had figured out already that his dad had been wrong, they weren't going to be together. His dad was in hell, because he had made a deal to bring Dean back and Sam...Sam was gone. That left Dean, the solider, the fighter, the oldest son. To do what? Go on? Keep fighting? Give up? It didn't matter, because they weren't going to be together anywhere.</p><p> </p><p>So what was the point?</p><p> </p><p>The point was the same point it had been for twenty four years now. It was HIS job to protect Sammy and he had failed. It had been HIS responsibility to keep him safe and he failed. It was HIS life to give for his brother's and here he was still alive. There was nothing right about that, nothing fair. Nothing that made any sense to Dean. His brother laid there, like a slab of meat and Dean was still sucking oxygen, useless, failed...already dead. He wasn't going to see them on the other side, he wasn't going to see anyone. He was going to live out the rest of his life in quiet misery and hope the world came crashing to an end. That every other single bastard out there, who was alive because they had sacrificed and saved them, he hoped they would all pay. They would all suffer and know what it was like to be sitting here. Watching their brother or sister not breathe. Because he was useless and could do nothing to stop it.</p><p> </p><p>“IT'S NOT FAIR!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. His voice carried through the old shack and out into the dead night. It was not fair. Nothing was fair.</p><p> </p><p>“Life isn't fair.” his father said, sitting at the dishelved kitchen table. He was wearing the same thing he had on the night he died. His beard was a few days old and his eyes...his eyes looked as tired as Dean felt “Life isn't fair” he repeated “No one gets out alive.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean gaped at him open mouthed for several seconds and then rubbed his eyes. “You aren't here.” Dean said savagely.</p><p> </p><p>“No” John said “But then you are losing it, so in the end what does it matter who is here or not?” He reached over and grabbed the full bottle of whiskey they had brought in from the car “Want some more?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean took the bottle from him and took a long swig “What do you want?” he said wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as it burned down his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want?” John asked leaning on the table “That's the question isn't it? What does Dean Winchester really want?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean grabbed a rickety chair and spun it around. He straddled it and sat across from the image of his dead father “What's your point?”</p><p> </p><p>“What's your point?” John asked “I mean in life Dean, what is your point?” Dean's faced paled as he went on “You get up, you brush your teeth, you eat, you go and find things to kill, you go out, try to get laid and go to bed alone. So you can do it all over again. So tell me Dean, what is your point?”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up” Dean said glaring at his father.</p><p> </p><p>“But this isn't me remember?” John said standing up “I'm not here, so this can only be coming from you. So tell me Dean...why don't you shut up?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean jumped to his feet, kicking the chair over “Why are you doing this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you doing this Dean?” John asked taking a step towards him “Why are you still doing this? To avenge your mother? To avenge me? To do good? Why Dean? Why?!” John yelled in his face “The only person you wanted to save is DEAD! The only person in the whole world you thought worth saving is lying in that room dead. BECAUSE OF YOU DEAN!”</p><p> </p><p>“I TRIED!” Dean yelled back.</p><p> </p><p>“YOU FAILED!” John said backhanding his son across the face. Dean's face was jerked back as John screamed “How could you let it happen Dean? How could you do any less than I did?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean stumbled back and almost fell to the floor. His hand lashed out and grabbed the door frame he had been leaning against when he dozed off. He looked up and saw Sammy still laying there. Still dead.</p><p> </p><p>The words of his father came bubbling back in his mind “<em>”Life isn't fair. What do you want? What's your point? Why are you doing this?How could you do any less than I did?”</em></p><p> </p><p>Dean felt warm tears roll down his face as a fresh wave of grief barreled over him. He leaned against the door frame and watched Sam not breath. In another thirty minutes Bobby would be back and try to convince him to bury Sam and move on.</p><p> </p><p>But it was too late.</p><p> </p><p>Life wasn't fair.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted Sam back.</p><p> </p><p>The point was because he didn't deserve to die.</p><p> </p><p>And he was doing this...because he was supposed to look out for his little brother.</p><p> </p><p>Which was exactly what he was going to do.</p><p> </p><p>When Bobby came back Dean screamed at him to leave, it was another bad goodbye.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dead died. It was a bad goodbye.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>And it must have been an hour that I clutched you in my arms<br/>
And I must have said the right things because you instantly felt warm<br/>
And you heard my heart stop beating and you wanted not to cry<br/>
As your sympathetic whispers, they told a tale of bad goodbyes</em>
</p><p>
  <b>Mayday Parade</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Of bad Goodbyes and Other Such Tragedies-Part Three</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>May 29, 2008</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“It was a nice service.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam looked down at the faceless female and nodded as they patted his shoulder. Seconds after she walked away he had forgotten about her, that was how completely addled he felt. It was an oddly large turnout, more people that he thought would come. Halliey and Ben had come all the way from Colorado while Layla and her mother had flown in from Nebraska. She seemed so sad that she had outlived Dean she had left in the middle of the ceremony, Sam didn't think she would be back. Detective Ballard had wept openly as the preacher had spoke of Valhalla and a heaven waiting for fallen warriors while Emily, still tired from driving in from Indiana, looked mad as she tore silently tore up the hymn page in her lap. Only two people didn't make it. Cassie had sat in stunned silence as Sam had told her and then quietly hung up the phone, another word never said. Lisa had broken down crying, asking herself between sobs how she was going to explain to Ben that his...friend was dead. In the end she begged off coming and Sam couldn't blame her. He wished he wasn't here either. As they all piled out of the church only two people were left with Sam.</p><p> </p><p>Bobby and Missouri.</p><p> </p><p>Both came towards him slowly, the grief and sorrow was easily reflected in their eyes as Bobby put a hand around Sam's broad shoulders “You ok son?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam bit his tongue from telling Bobby he wasn't his son but the moment quickly passed. Instead he nodded and said “Yeah, thanks Bobby.”</p><p> </p><p>Taking a look at the psychic, Bobby removed his arm a d said “I'll make sure they get him to the plot. You two will be along?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded as Missouri said “Go on Bobby Singer, he isn't going to go bat shit crazy right now. Give the boy some space.”</p><p> </p><p>Bobby's face paled about three shades but said nothing as he walked off.</p><p> </p><p>“Bat shit?” Sam asked her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh honey don't start with me.” she said pulling him over to a pew “I need to sit down, these damn heels make my ankles swell like I was pregnant or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam helped her sit with a smile “If you knew they were going to hurt why did you wear them?”</p><p> </p><p>Missouri looked up with a stern look “Cause I know how good my legs look in them, what's your excuse for inviting all these people? You know seeing them grieve was going to hurt you.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam's smile dropped as if slapped.</p><p> </p><p>She sighed as she rubbed her foot “Oh Sam, it isn't over yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Sam said leaning towards her “You mean there's a chance? A chance Dean might come back? This isn't over?”</p><p> </p><p>She looked up at him with endless compassion and said “No honey I meant for you, it isn't over for you yet.” and then softly “Dean's gone Sam, you know that.” Sam pulled away slightly and Missouri asked “You DO know that right Sam?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded, looking away. She grabbed his face and pulled his eyes back to her “Don't. Just don't Sam.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes began to water as he said “He's my brother, what do you want me to do.”</p><p> </p><p>She sighed and let his face go “What I want you to do doesn't matter. It's what you are going to is the problem.”</p><p> </p><p>“What am I going to do?” he asked, his voice choked with emotion.</p><p> </p><p>She looked up at him and smiled with him, an expression devoid of any real mirth and said “You're gonna go bat shit crazy for awhile Sam.”</p><p> </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>The bar was dark and smoky, which was how they liked it. After all no matter how much they bitched, everyone got a little homesick once and awhile.</p><p> </p><p>“To Dean Winchester” the tall man said raising a glass “May Allistair have many, many fruitful years with him.” The other men around him cheered and held their own glass up for a toast and slammed the alcohol down. The main man slammed his glass down first “Bartender! Another round!!”</p><p> </p><p>“Proculo” one of the other men said “We killed the bartender remember?”</p><p> </p><p>Proculo looked at him with solid black eyes and burst out laughing “So we did!” the rest of the men laughed with him, even though it was obvious they found no humor in his proclamation. After a few seconds he said “Someone go pretend to be a bartender!”</p><p> </p><p>“I will.” one of the three men with him said standing up suddenly and then almost falling over. The other men laughed out loud at his obvious drunkness, which was why they were completely surprised when the door of the bar was kicked open by one of Sam's size twelve's.</p><p> </p><p>The three men sitting down tried to move in the way of their boss, but by the time they had realized what was happening, Sam was already moving. With a savage throw Sam threw Ruby's knife squarely at the closest one chest. The man shook as his body spasmed with light, the bones glowing in the aftereffect of the blade's enchantment as he fell to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>One down.</p><p> </p><p>Sam grabbed the canteen on his side and spread his arm out in an arc, slapping the other men in a liberal dose of holy water across the eyes. They screamed and tried to cover themselves as Sam tossed the canteen aside and grabbed the knife from the corpse. Swinging upwards he caught the second demons throat, slashing lengthwise, sending a bright red spurts of blood across his chest as the man's eyes flashed and then he fell to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Two down.</p><p> </p><p>The third man, one eye gone from the holy water came at Sam lurching, one hand raised a if to pummel him, but Sam was already under his swing. With as much strength as he could muster he shoved the knife under the demons chin and lifted him off the ground, as he twitched a few times as the blade killed its dark soul forever. Letting go of the man he fell to the ground like a puppet that had lost its strings.</p><p> </p><p>Three down.</p><p> </p><p>The entire time Proculo had stood at the bar in abject terror. He had never seen a human fight so savagely before, never seen so many loyal men cut down like stalks of wheat. Sam moved past the table, upending it as he passed by, and raised the knife to him. With a rather girlish and panicked scream the demon lord raised one hand to his face in terror...as Sam brought the knife down in the center of his other hand still on the bar.</p><p> </p><p>The blade sunk through the flesh, pinning the appendage to the thick oak bar by inches. The demon's scream went from terror to pain as the nerve endings of the body cried out at the nine inch blade embedded into it. Instantly his mouth opened wide and he moved as if he looked to yodel for a moment. Nothing happened as the stupefied demon did a double take and tried to open his mouth again.</p><p> </p><p>“Won't work” Sam said standing next to the impaled demon “Knife keeps your hand to the bar and you to the flesh.” Proculo looked down at the knife and moaned as he recognized it, and he knew the hunter was telling the truth. No getting out of this body with that thing in him.</p><p> </p><p>“Sam!” he said in a high pitched voice “Sammy! Samuel!!” he was trying to sound congenial, he was trying to sound nonchalant. No one sounded those things with a blade stuck in them.</p><p> </p><p>Sam casually leaned over the bar and pulled a bottle of rum and pulled the top of the bottle. Taking a long swig Sam downed a good third of the bottle before sitting next to the startled demon. Feeling the liquid burn in his chest he looked over to the man and offered him a drink. Proculo shook his head in panic no as Sam took another drink.</p><p> </p><p>In a very careful and emotionless tone Sam said “Me and my brother were never alike.” He paused, as if to allow the demon to interject something, but the duke kept his mouth shut. “He did things his way and I did mine.” He continued. “See I was of the school that life was like a problem. A word problem. Something to be solved, or fixed. Something that wasn't wrong per say, simply confused. And if you thought enough on the problem, there would be a solution.” Sam looked over to him with tired eyes “I like solutions.”</p><p> </p><p>The demon's hand simply throbbed now. He could tell it was stuck in the wood of the bar far too deep to simply pull out. So he bided his time as Sam kept talking.</p><p> </p><p>“Now Dean, Dean saw the world as one big clusterfuck.” Sam paused and smiled “Dean loved that word.” and shook his head “Clusterfuck, that was the world. And in a clusterfuck, so many things were going wrong at once, it didn't really matter what you did, it was going to go to hell anyways. So all you could do was make the best out of the small part you had in front of you, and try not to worry about the rest.” he looked back to the demon “See in Dean's mind if you could salvage just a little but of good out of a bad situation, then it was ok. I didn't think like that.” Sam got up, bottle in hand and paced in front of the demon “I wanted there to be a solution for the WHOLE thing. I wanted there to be a way to fix the entire problem, not just the small parts in front of me. Because I thought the world was generally a nice and kind place, and just randomly killing things wasn't the way to go.” He looked over at the dead demons lying on the floor “That was Dean's way.”</p><p> </p><p>Taking a deep breath Sam said “So I am going to try it my way.” he looked Proculo straight in the eyes and said “I am just going to ask you a question, and you tell me the answer. That's it. Cause and effect. No lying, no threatening, no snide comments. Just me asking you one thing and you answering me one thing. See how that works?” The demon's head bobbed in ascension as Sam got closer “Good. Here we go.” And he got right next to the demon's face “How do I bring my brother back?”</p><p> </p><p>The demon's eyes got wide as he began to babble “Hey man that had nothing to do with me! There are tons of ways to get someone back from the dead! Did you try one of those? You don't need me for...” and he screamed as Sam twisted the knife clockwise a quarter turn in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“See?” Sam said once the screaming had stopped “That's what I get for trying things my way.” he said sounding sad “So let's try this Dean's way.” And he got up close to the demon's face “We both know that my brother is in Hell and that his contract is held by Lilith, so don't tell me that there are several ways to bring him back from the dead or I am going to start carving parts of you off, one piece at a time.”</p><p> </p><p>Procule gulped and said “Ok, ok. He was taken in a crossroads pact, that's the end all of demon contracts. Nothing supersedes that, nothing! If you want to bring him back, it's gonna take another crossroads to do it. I can't!! I swear to you I can't!!” He whimpered “Please take the knife out now.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded and asked “So all the other ways, reanimation, Tricksters, pagan rituals...none of them can bring him back...right?”</p><p> </p><p>“NO!” the demon screamed as Sam pulled out a silver plated zippo and a small metal looking plug. “Only the crossroads demons can change that, only them!” He was almost crying “I don't know anything about that...please!”</p><p> </p><p>Sam was heating the plug up while listening “See? I asked you, you lied. We did it Dean's way, you talked.” the plug was red hot now “That is a very helpful life lesson, don't you think?”</p><p> </p><p>“C'mon man, please!” the demon began to beg “Don't so this...whatever you are doing.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam looked up at him “You want the knife out right?” The demon nodded so fast his head looked like it was going to fall off. “Well then” Sam said closing the zippo “Let's do something about that.” In a flash Sam grabbed the demon's head and held it down to its chest. Taking the glowing plug he pressed it hard to the flesh of its neck, as the demon screamed in altogether new and surprising pain. The smell of burnt flesh almost made Sam gag, but he held it there until the skin was charred black. Taking the plug out he saw the circle and seal within. Blowing on it to dissipate the smoke he nodded and pulled the knife out of the bar. The demon fell to the ground as it tried to move away. It's bloodied hand clutched to its chest, the other on its burnt neck.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you do?” it asked as Sam took another swig of rum.</p><p> </p><p>“You mean this?” Sam asked holding up the metal plug. He tossed it to the demon who caught it with its good hand and examined it.</p><p> </p><p>The demon's eyes widened in shock “A binding link?” it asked “You branded me with a binding link?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam smiled “Yeah, I like that body on you. It kinda fits.”</p><p> </p><p>The demon tried to grab at the burnt flesh “I'm trapped in here? Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam walked over to the thing pretending to be a man “You never drank with me to my brother.” he said in a dangerous tone.</p><p> </p><p>“Look, I never knew your brother...I mean I just heard...”</p><p> </p><p>Sam got right in his face “You. Never. Drank. With. Me.” he said slowly. The demon nodded in silence as Sam held the bottle up. “To Dean Winchester” and he paused, looking far away into himself. After a second he said “Who probably was smarter than I ever gave him credit for.” he looked down at Procule “Sound about right?” The demon nodded slowly.</p><p> </p><p>And Sam poured the rest of the rum over the demon's head. The demon called out in shock as he felt the cold rum pour into his open burn mark. He fell to the ground in pain and almost blacked out for a few moments. When he came to he was on the ground with Sam kneeling down next to him.</p><p> </p><p>“I am coming for my brother. I am going to get him out of there, if I have to kill every single demon on Earth. There is nothing that will stop me. Nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you telling me this?” the demon screamed in panic.</p><p> </p><p>Sam stood, rising to his full height and looked down “Because I want you to tell him that next time you see him.”</p><p> </p><p>And he dropped the flaming zippo onto his head.</p><p> </p><p>Sam didn't even look back as he walked out of the bar, completely ignoring the screaming and thrashing body flailing on the ground, praying for the body to die so it could leave, knowing he was going to feel every single things until then.</p><p> </p><p>Sam closed the door as the bar began to burn behind him. Getting into the Impala he mentally checked that off his list. He needed a crossroad demon. He needed to get his brother back. The last thing he told Dean was he was going to save him, and that ended up being a lie.</p><p> </p><p>That was a bad goodbye. And Sam intended to fix that.</p>
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